But I Needed Change
by ShrimpWonder
Summary: In a tight spot, Loki takes over Darcy's body as a way to escape. He also means to invade his brother's inner circle to plant the seeds of mayhem, but to do so, he must learn every detail about her. He finds there is more to her than he expected.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't an act of kindness, or cruelty. It was almost random chance, if there was such a thing. It was survival, necessity, emergency. It was all of the things Loki never wanted to succumb to, a situation he did not think would befall him. All the effort into being in control was not something he expected to see wasted. Random chance. Of course the God of Thunder's best asset would be chance. Lightning strikes at random. He should have foreseen that.

It was an opportunistic move. A neat escape, an asset saved and a way into his brother's little world of mortals. Her mind, her tiny mortal mind, was already prepared for his invasion, he'd made sure of it when he altered her dreams. She was there, that's all there was to it.

Because Thor had just charged a lightning strike, unaware that Loki's shield that held Darcy wouldn't withstand the impact. And hidden among fog and ice, Loki's sudden absence wouldn't sink in until it was too late to figure out what he'd done. That he'd saved Darcy's life by transferring his power to her was inconsequential, he was certain.

The plan had gone too wrong, too quickly. When he had taken Darcy into the desert, to lure Thor towards them, he had felt in control. Darcy protected, Thor weak and mortal, the Destroyer at the ready. Everything had been in place. But of course the Allfather would have made it so Thor could best him. He'd always preferred Loki's buffoonish brother, the Allfather's own flesh and blood. Of course Mjolnir would come to Thor's aid. Of course he'd have help. How else would Thor have ever won anyone's favor if it wasn't for undeserved support? Support that he, Loki, had never gotten, had always envied so much. He should have foreseen that as well, but it was not a concept the lonely god was used to.

So he fell into her. Falling, yes, would be the best way to describe it. It was that deliciously surrendering feeling of falling asleep, his form dissolving into hers in the same imperceptible way that night dissolves into dawn. His Asgardian attributes protected her from the blast of lightning, the change hidden in the smoke and icy debris that flew out in all directions. And as he heard his brother's distressed cries, his foolish relief at Darcy's safety, the battle faded in Loki's mind. The pain and the bitter taste of his defeat suddenly seemed more like a mere change of plans.

He stayed hidden inside her on the first week. He gave her control over their fused (and visually indistinguishable) body as he learned her manner of speech, her likes and her dislikes. If he was going to invade his brother's circle and rot it from within, he'd need to imitate her perfectly, down to the finest detail.

She wakes up after dreaming of golden spires and crystal bridges. Her sleep clings to the edges of her eyes, to the seam between her lips.

She sits in bed, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

She tries to fall asleep again. It never works.

She puts her glasses on.

She goes to the bathroom and looks in the mirror. Takes her glasses off because she can't stand her reflection in the morning, all frizzed up hair and hollow eyes.

She brushes her teeth.

She flosses meticulously. After an inspection in the mirror, she brushes again.

Satisfied, she takes a mouthful of mouthwash, winces, and tries to swish it in her mouth. Gives up, spitting it out within ten seconds. Rinses with water four times, trying to regain feeling in her mouth.

She slips out of her boxers and T-shirt to step into the shower. After several tries of getting the water to the right temperature, she gives up and gets under the slightly-too-hot or slightly-too-cold water.

She sings in the shower. Badly.

She washes and rewashes her hair.

After dressing, she heads downstairs and makes herself a giant mug of french vanilla coffee.

She eats pancakes with Thor. She marvels at his regained godhood and at how he got back his miu-miu.

She helps Jane piece together her research.

She tends to her farm on Farmville.

She gets on Tumblr. Scroll. Scroll. Refresh.

She gets a phone-call from some friend or other. She makes up an excuse to hang up.

Either Erik or Jane calls her to have lunch. She goofs off with Thor at the table.

She watches television. For hours.

She gets back to Tumblr. Scroll. Scroll. Refresh. Scroll.

She tries to read for schoolwork. Gives up.

She gets back to Jane to help her with the research.

She makes dinner. Thor tries to help.

She eats with them, and by now it is obvious how comfortable and content she is with them.

She reads college assignments, and there is no hesitation. Perhaps dinner removed her laziness.

She brushes her teeth once more, repeating the same meticulous ritual.

She showers again, but only puts on a robe.

She goes to her room and locks the door.

She stands, naked, in front of her mirror. There is something in her reflection. Something that didn't wash away when she showered. Beyond the myriad flaws she sees in herself, there is something unwanted, something that wasn't there before.

Loki stares back at her through her own eyes. An invisible smile plays across his lips, and it is reflected across Darcy's. She catches the smile and looks away.

She dresses for bed. She dreams.

In the following week, she goes to her classes, she does her assignments, she helps Jane, she browses Tumblr. But every night she stands in front of that mirror, searching.


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy felt completely out of place, walking along brass halls over golden floors. She felt tiny and clumsy, like an ugly weed among flowers. She knew where she was, of course. Thor had told her plenty about Asgard, but to actually be there was almost too glorious to bear. In her T-shirt and boxers, God, she was under-dressed. She should have been wearing a gown or something, right?

The golden floors felt cool under her bare, pale feet, and she wandered down gigantic hallway after gigantic hallway, wondering if any of it ever ended. She had to find Thor, or else she'd be lost forever. But how could she find him? She tried calling out his name, but her voice didn't seem to be working.

Turning a corner, she found herself stepping into a gigantic library, the size of a cathedral. Amber light spilled down from a dome at the center of the vaulted ceiling, surrounded by intricate brass pieces that looked almost like clockwork. Organic yet somehow functional, a gigantic ornate astrolabe, the sun shining in the center. Below it, flaring out like the petals of a rose, bookshelves lined with leather-bound books stretched out, filling her eyes until she was almost dizzy with the enormity of the library.

Loki stood in the center, in between tables lit with lamps.

He was not dressed as she remembered him, his bronze armor conspicuous in its absence. Instead he wore a simple green tunic with golden embroidery. He was smiling, and it made her stomach clench.

"I really hoped I'd seen the last of you," she said, her voice trembling as much as her lower lip.

"Yes, that's exactly how we greet people in Asgard," he replied with a smirk. He walked over to her, and her first instinct was to back away but her legs would not respond. "How nice, that you conjured up Asgard to fill your dreams. A welcome respite from watching you bumble about in your drab mortal world."

"Get away from me, you creep! Why would you be watching me?"

"An actor has to study that which he will play. And don't worry, Ms. Lewis. It's quite possible that you have seen the last of me," he said, his smile changing as a flower would bloom. Features growing softer, hair flowing out, hard lines turning into sweeping curves.

Darcy wanted to scream, but her voice was trapped. Or perhaps it had been stolen, for her horrified eyes stared into her own eyes, her own face. Loki looked at her with a smirk on Darcy's lips, stolen lips. A perfect imitation, except for the color of her eyes.

This was a nightmare. She could wake up if she willed it hard enough, she knew. Eyes shut, she threw herself back, finding herself falling miles and miles until her mind landed back in her body and she jerked awake. The white ceiling of Erik's guest room stretched out over her, comfortably close. She could smell the detergent she used on her sheets. Everything was alright.

But of course it wasn't.

She watched in horror from her own eyes as she sat up, her hand running through her hair of its own volition. No. Not on its own. It was Loki.

"I _have_ always admired your hair, Ms. Lewis," said Loki with her voice.

_STOP IT! GET OUT! STOP STOP STOP! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BODY! _She screamed from within her mind, making Loki smirk again with her lips. Loki could feel her throwing a tantrum, pulling at his control. But it was nothing compared to a god's will. She didn't stand a chance.

"Oh, calm down," said Loki, "this is just a bit of fun."

_Fun? Who exactly is having fun?_ She asked, her despair suddenly weighing down on Loki. It was a shared body, and a shared head-space. Her feelings were reflected in the hormones that swam through her brain, passed onto Loki's own mind. It was an odd thing.

"I-I am, of course," said Loki, getting up to stand in front of the mirror. Testing out her body, flexing and stretching. Shaking her hair.

_I am so sick of you._ Her words were callous yet sincere.

"A common sentiment," said Loki bitterly. "As common and ordinary as you are, Ms. Lewis."

Her silence pleased Loki. The words must have seemed especially biting when issued using her own voice. And yet the almost overwhelming sinking feeling that threatened to cut off Loki's air supply made the insult that much less satisfying. Finding a way to ward off her emotions from invading would be a priority.

Loki repeated her morning ritual, sans the bad singing and the mouthwash and then dressing in black jeans and a green shirt, headed to the kitchen to have breakfast. With Darcy's nose, the french vanilla coffee smelled positively delicious. And it tasted even better.

Perhaps the things Loki had enjoyed in his own body would taste horrible with Darcy's.

"Mornin' dudes," said Darcy's voice.

"Hey Darcy! I'd never seen you wear that green shirt," said Jane, smiling and putting an arm around her. "It looks good on you."

Loki remembered with a small twinge of annoyance that Darcy didn't wear green anymore. Should have noticed. But the mortals probably wouldn't notice. Thor surely wouldn't.

Speaking of which.

Loki's gigantic brother lumbered into the kitchen, wearing his usual silly smile. He was wearing a flannel shirt, as was now his custom. Unbecoming of an Asgardian god. "Good morning, Jane! And Darcy! It seems Erik has tangled himself in his sheets, it is unusual for him not to be up yet."

Loki forced a laugh, reaching up to ruffle Thor's hair. It seemed a natural gesture for Darcy, as unnerving as it might be to suddenly feel her attraction for him. Tiny butterflies in her stomach and a heat in her face that bothered Loki more than anything ever had.

_I hate you. That's like dangling candy in front of a baby. _Her words were lighthearted, but the sentiment behind them wasn't. Loki jerked her hand back, feeling her face heat up. How irritating. Finding how to cut off Darcy's feelings was of utmost importance now.

It was only through controlled breathing that Loki managed to make sure Darcy's tears would not break through, would not reveal her hidden despair. Throughout the rest of the day, Loki would do this more times than expected. It was really almost remarkable how much the girl wanted to cry. One would wonder how she could get through the day.

* * *

><p>"Darcy! Come watch Star Wars with me!" called Thor, just as Loki was about to head to Darcy's room. Loki stopped mid-step, stifling a sigh and turning towards Thor with a fake smile.<p>

After a long day of dodging him, trying hard to help Jane es much as possible with her research and bearing Erik's idiotic rants, Loki only wanted to hide away and read.

"But we've already seen this one a hundred times, bro," said Darcy, dragging her feet.

"But I enjoy it. Their weapons are amazing. Besides, I want to play cards with you," replied Thor, fanning a pack of Bicycle cards that seemed tiny in his hands. Loki noticed a worry in his eyes, and the concentration of his attempt to be shrewd. It was almost funny.

"You think you stand a chance this time, big guy?"

"Never hurts to try."

Loki couldn't particularly whether Darcy was any good at playing War, but figured she was probably better than Thor. The deck divided and the movie playing, they started dishing out their cards.

Two wars later and by the time Luke's adoptive parents had been killed, Thor cleared his throat and gave Darcy a warm, almost parental look. Loki tried not to laugh.

"Something is wrong, Darcy," he said, worry written on his face.

"Maybe the fact that I'm kicking your ass at this?" Loki tried not to show any emotion other than Darcy's smugness. It was easier with Darcy's own relief emanating from her mind.

Thor laughed heartily, putting a giant hand on her shoulder. He was surprisingly gentle, and his twinkling blue eyes, so full of the deepest sincerity, sent her heart racing with adolescent idiocy. She was too old for this, thought Loki.

"You haven't been yourself," he said wisely. "You've avoided me all day."

_Smarter than he looks,_ said Darcy. Loki felt a pang of panic, but it subsided immediately.

"I-I've just, um. . . Thor, I've. . . I can't forget about what happened in the desert, okay? It was hella scary, and I've been dealing with it so far but it's hard. I had a nightmare. I lived all of it over again, and I know your face shouldn't remind me of it but it – it really does. I see you and, yes, you rescued me but all I remember was the lightning and the ice. It was terrifying and I just," Loki paused for effect, tears welling up in Darcy's eyes. "I can't. I love you, Thor. I'm trying to forget."

"Darcy, my friend. You've been so brave," said Thor, enveloping her in a big, warm embrace, making her cheeks redden, "You must remember that it is not weak to feel fear. It is not weak to feel pain. If that is how you have decided to handle your feelings, then I will not stand in the way of your well-being. I can only hope that this will pass soon, for your friendship means so much to me. I could not bear to lose you to my brother's wickedness."

_If only you knew,_ she said, tears breaking through Loki's control. And though she wanted, more than anything, to hug Thor in return and let him comfort her and let him know that she needed his help now more than ever, Loki would not permit it. Her arms stayed at her side. Her voice remained silent, as much as she wanted to scream.


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy opened her eyes, finding herself lying in her bed. She waited for Loki to move her, but nothing happened. She was afraid to try anything herself, afraid to give herself any hope. After a long moment of hesitation, she tried wiggling her big toe.

It wiggled.

Amazed, she sat up, hugging her legs to her chest, relief making her feel dizzy and light-headed. She jumped out of bed, running to the living room to tell Thor. He had to know what was going on, he had to punish Loki. Her feet barely made a sound on the carpet as she sped down the hall.

It took her a few seconds for her to realize what exactly was wrong. Outside the windows, instead of the dusty town she was expecting, there was a vast expanse of black ocean, unfamiliar stars shining down upon it. Disappointment and anger and hopelessness hit her like a gale-force wind, knocking her down onto her bare knees.

She bit her lip to keep herself from screaming in anguish. Not that it mattered. It was a dream, after all. But she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"It's not my fault your subconscious conjured up fantasies of freedom as soon as I let it take over the dream-state," said Loki from behind her. She didn't look at him.

"Can't you just let me dream, then? Do you really have to invade even that?"

"I didn't do this to watch your dreadfully boring dreams, Miss Lewis. I'm simply doing some more studying. If my performance didn't even fool my idiot brother, then I clearly have to try harder."

"How about you just give up? How about you get the hell out of my body and leave me the hell alone?" Her eyes were cruel as she shouted at him, getting up from the floor and turning to face him, getting closer with each word. She bared her teeth and pushed him back, her arms shooting forward charged with all her rage and hatred. He stumbled back, but only just. His smirk was unchanged.

"And you would what? Continue to pine for an idiot who doesn't even notice you? How quaint," he replied, his lip twitching.

"What? Are you envious or something? How pathetic," she said, spitting the words out even as she realized how much she actually pitied him. But her pity was drowning in her hate and anger, and she could not, _would_ not bring herself to reach for it and truly feel it.

He smirked and turned away from her, walking down the hall. "I don't want anything of his. I want him to have nothing."

He began to disappear into the darkness of the hall, which seemed to stretch on much longer than it did in reality. He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.

"Come with me," he said, though his tone was not one of authority. Figuring he couldn't do anything worse to her after taking her body, she silently followed him into the dark.

~o~

"What are we doing in my old high-school?" asked Darcy as they emerged into the muted brown halls of Clyde Tombaugh University. "Christ, this place is even more depressing in my head."

"I'm going to be taking a stroll through your memories, Miss Lewis," said Loki, walking down the hall just as the bell rang. Darcy had an uncanny moment of déja vu, which she figured would be happening a lot that night.

"Why didn't you just, like, freeze me in ice and shapeshift to look like me? It'd spare me the flashback sequence," she said, rolling her eyes as the bell rang and students spilled out. "Or better yet, get a life and stop being a dick. But I guess that'll never happen."

"Are you completely oblivious to the fact that even Thor, who is about as bright as a thumbtack, noticed the change? Even though I studied you? Miss Lewis, your stupidity astounds me," he said, his words venomous. "Besides, you were about to get hit by one of my brother's thunder bolts. If I'd encased you in ice, you would still have sustained terrible injuries.

"Wait," she said, staring at him with a confused expression, "So you saved me? I don't – you better not have a crush on me, creep."

"It's almost. . . cute, how you think you are at all important to me. I simply did not want to lose a game piece on the board," he said, shrugging and following the younger Darcy down the school hall. She had shorter hair back then, decorated with silly streaks of neon pink. Darcy cringed at her younger self.

"_Interesting_ use of pink," said Loki, and Darcy wanted to defend herself but knew there was no defense. She brushed past him, already knowing where young Darcy was headed. The cafeteria.

A gigantic banner claiming pride for the Puente Antiguo Vikings was the only colorful thing in a modest square of gray walls and brown, circular tables. She headed straight for the corner table that she sat in for four years every school day. Except the days she skipped. She wondered if her younger self would be up to any shenanigans that day. She caught herself hoping that she did so that she'd impress Loki, and promptly kicked herself mentally.

She watched Loki follow the teenage Darcy to the line for lunch, watched as her younger self picked up spaghetti and tater-tots, and sneaked two brownies instead of one. They walked together right to the table she was sitting at, following suit silently. Curiously she watched Loki looking around expectantly.

"No one sits with me, creepster. I was about as popular as math homework," she said, looking sadly at her younger self, who ate with an expressionless empty look in her eyes. She looked back at Loki, whose eyes had a sudden, incomprehensible warmth to them that Darcy had no idea how to interpret.

Compassion? No, of course not. He was incapable of that. Right?

With a wave of Loki's hand, the lunchroom seemed to spin – perhaps spinning was the wrong word, as things did not change direction. It was an unknowable movement, too momentous to truly perceive but drastic enough to feel. And with that movement, the students in the lunchroom flitted in and out, remembered and forgotten in seconds as high-school friendships grew and died.

But the teenage Darcy remained alone at the table, blurring in and out with every day that passed.

"Stop it!" exclaimed Darcy, grabbing Loki's arm. Seeing a year of her life spread out like that, overlaid on itself was just too raw. She didn't want to see her loneliness resumed in a paragraph of moments.

Loki didn't look at her, only at the memory of her. His eyes were blank, masked of emotion, yet his parted lips and the set of his jaw showed something like worry, or anger.

"Let's just go," said Darcy, her voice faint with sudden exhaustion.

"As you wish," he said, his voice restrained. "Come with me."

And with much more poise and elegance than should even be possible, he ducked under the table. Darcy did the same, much less gracefully. The darkness under the table swallowed them up, and with a wrenching feeling of sudden momentum, they left the cafeteria.

~o~

They emerged into the back of a moving car. Outside, the desert stretched out into the darkness, the road speeding away from under them. In the front passenger seat sat eighteen-year-old Darcy, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in a gray sweater and a black skirt with patterned leggings under it. Darcy winced at the leggings.

And the guy driving was a tall, long-haired future law student in a polo and bermudas. Scott. Anger flared up in Darcy's chest as she automatically picked out everything about him that made her want to punch him. Seeing younger Darcy looking at Scott with mushy-sweet eyes made her feel sick.

He was talking about how he'd be moving away, to the East, because he had a better chance at his career over there. Oh. Darcy knew this conversation. She knew it quite well. They were headed to Darcy's house, and he was already lighting a cigarette even though he knew she hated cigarettes.

Her younger self opened her mouth to complain about the cigarettes and how her mom hated when she saw him smoking, but the words died in her mouth as she heard him speak.

Loki observed impassively, as if expecting something to annoy him.

"Listen, Darcy. We've had great times, haven't we?" he asked, smoke spilling from his mouth with every word.

"Enough for a lifetime," she said, echoing a phrase he repeated often. Back then she thought it was romantic. Now, the older Darcy just thought it was douchey and probably bullshit.

"I don't want to ruin that by stretching things out until they break," he said, reaching her neighborhood. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and I can't take you with me. Not physically and not mentally."

"Are you breaking up with me, dude?" she asked, already forming arguments in her head for why they shouldn't break up. Older Darcy just rolled her eyes. Loki had something close to sympathy faintly painting his expression. The car turned the corner and stopped in front of the house Darcy used to live in. Scott turned the key and the engine rumbled down to silence.

"Don't think of it as breaking up. Think of it as moving on. I mean, I know we can both do better," he said, a douchey grin showing how little he really cared.

Loki's eyes narrowed.

Scott leaned in for a kiss, as if after those words he could still get 'one last kiss' from her. Darcy's left hand went to her seat-belt buckle, while her right went to her purse.

Click. Crackle. Scream.

She never thought she'd ever actually use her taser.

Scott's face twitched and jerked as he fell forwards onto the steering wheel, setting off an endless _hooooonnnnnnnkkkk_ from the car. Darcy grabbed the lit cigarette from his hand and, getting out of her seat, she dropped it onto the leather upholstery. Feeling that wasn't nearly enough, she frantically grabbed the cigarette box from his dashboard, spilling them on top of the lit one, leaving the box on top of the small pile and lighting them with the matches from one of the matchbooks he kept on the side-pocket of the door and then dropping the matchbook on the little pile.

Not wanting to attract too much attention or kill him from smoke inhalation, she walked around the car and, opening his door, she pulled him back from the steering wheel, ending the long honk.

Feeling an intense yet hollow pleasure from this, she walked briskly down the path to the house, wiping tears from her cheeks. Her hands were shaking.

"You should have let him choke on the smoke and die," said Loki, who was nonetheless smirking at Darcy's vindictiveness.

"I couldn't. In fact I didn't even leave the fire on," she said, nodding at her younger self, who came back and stomped the fire on the seat out. The seat was completely ruined either way, but she had been scared that the entire car would catch fire.

"Pity," said Loki, though he couldn't hide his smile. "Come."

He opened the car door and stepped out, and Darcy did the same, seeing the dim light of the car interior suddenly blaze as she opened her door and left the car, and the neighborhood, far behind.

~o~

"Jesus, that dress was _not_ right for my boobs," said Darcy as they emerged from a rented limo with her younger self, who was wearing a low-cut blue dress that was about half a size too small for her chest. She looked as uncomfortable as older Darcy felt.

"Prom night, eh?" said Loki, his green tunic re-stitching itself into a black tuxedo, with an emerald green vest and a golden cravat. Darcy felt her own T-Shirt and boxers flow out into a backless, green silk dress with a golden brooch in the shape of a snake. Golden pumps appeared around her feet, raising her up to Loki's height. She resisted the urge to gasp at the beauty of her clothes, not wanting to show appreciation for Loki's shenanigans.

"A little exposition is in order," said Darcy as they followed her younger self down the oddly empty sidewalk, "I'm really early to the prom because. . . well, that guy Scott that you saw in that memory was going to be my prom date. He dumped me and left before prom, and I didn't know that there was like, an actual rule against going to prom without a date. Which is total bullshit, right?"

"Anyway, I already had the rented limo and my dress, so I decided to go anyway, screw the rules. And also to pull off a tiny prank, because I hated my senior class and stuff. So I came early, to be able to pull it off."

Loki raised a single eyebrow at her, and Darcy hated that she felt proud of the fact that he'd be impressed with her soon enough. She pushed the feeling down, feeling suddenly even more uncomfortable.

They followed younger Darcy to the mostly deserted gymnasium, which was decorated with rocket-ships and planets, as that year's theme was Space Exploration. Near the entrance was a ballot box and a table, where the class president was supposed to sit and take votes but since it was way too early, she was elsewhere. Older Darcy figured she was in the locker room making out with her boyfriend.

Teenage Darcy approached the table nonchalantly, taking a ballot and writing a scribble on it before dumping it in. She dropped the pen, and when she bent down to pick it up she switched it for a pen she had in her other hand, in one fluid and falsely clumsy motion. The only three other pens on the table were swiftly replaced with her own identical pens in a second, and she walked away with a bored expression on her face.

Loki's eyes swept the large gym, seeing many members of the community that he recognized from Darcy's daily life. He was surprised to find Jane Foster and Selvig chatting by the bleachers. They did not seem to notice Darcy at all.

"The prom is usually organized by people in town. Mostly ex-students. I didn't even realize they were here," said older Darcy, smiling at the sight of Jane and Selvig.

The gym slowly began to fill with students who arrived with their dates, each writing up their vote with Darcy's mysterious pens. No one seemed to notice her at the punch table or near the photo booth, until a teacher passed by her and remembered that he had told her that she couldn't come to prom without a date.

"So you found a new date?" he asked with a smile.

"Sure, he's, um, getting me punch over there," she said, chuckling awkwardly. "He signed the guest list."

The teacher looked at her somewhat sadly, and started to say something but thought better of it and merely nodded at her before heading to the DJ to tell him to start the music. She slumped down into a chair, puffing through her lips in boredom.

And then something curious happened. Seconds after the teacher reached his own group of faculty members, a wave of buzzing radiated from his spot, as all the students whispered to each other and began looking around. Darcy looked around as well, until she realized that the stares began to settle on her and more and more people looked at her, sitting alone and date-less.

She was out of the gym in seconds, exiting into the dark halls of the school. Part of her hoped that someone would follow her out and try to talk to her, while the rest of her simply wanted to get the hell away from everything. She leaned against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position.

Older Darcy and Loki stood at either side of her, both looking around awkwardly. Selfishly, Loki hoped that no one would talk to her. Selfishly he wanted to be the only one – but of course that was impossible. It was the past. Now, in the present, she had Jane, Thor, and Erik at her side.

"You know, the memories you've picked to visit aren't exactly great examples of my life, man. For the most part I was a perfectly ordinary teenager, like, with online friends and lots of TV. Sitting at dinner with my mom, visiting family in Texas and in Florida. It wasn't all drama and loneliness."

"I've merely been stopping at the memories that held the most weight in your mind, Miss Lewis," replied Loki, not looking at her. "I don't think you're perfectly ordinary. If you were, I would not have to put any effort into playing you."

Darcy winced at the sudden drop of remembering why exactly they were there. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned to peek into the gym. Her favorite part was coming up. The class president came up onstage to announce that voting was over and ballot counting would commence.

Wouldn't last much.

Figuring that she probably didn't want to get beat up, teenage Darcy walked over to her locker down the hall, popping it open to get a change of clothes. She already had pictures of herself in the dress. Pictures of her in the limo as well. She'd gotten what she wanted.

Minutes later, she slipped into the gym in plain clothes, just a band tee and jeans. The students were slow-dancing, holding each other with sappy looks in their eyes. Older Darcy watched them, wondering how many of those couples were still together. Probably only the ones that had gotten pregnant. And even then, it could go either way –

"You didn't dance at your prom," remarked Loki, though there was no bite to his tone.

"Neither did you," she said, wanting to stay away from what his words were implying.

"I didn't have prom. But I did have a ceremony with similar importance. And I danced. Though it was definitely not this kind of dancing. Much faster and requiring a lot more finesse."

"I bet you danced with your mom," she replied, though there was little enthusiasm in the quip.

"Well, yes, among others. Come," he said, and it wasn't quite clear to him why he wanted to give her that dance. He told himself it was pity, before deciding that he was simply charming her into being cooperative. But why, then, did his smile feel so genuine? Adding a faint haughty twist to his smile, he extended his hand to her.

She took it suspiciously, letting him put his hand at her hip and sway her into the dance floor. In a detached sort of way she noted how his hands were cold, almost achingly so. His entire body was hard and unyielding yet at the same time it flowed and coiled in perfect sync to hers, perhaps the way a panther would feel at her touch. Or a snake.

He was leading, moving her side to side, sweeping her and pulling her. It was impossible to resist his guiding hands, and she found herself seeking his direction, falling into and away from him. Shivering from cold or perhaps something else, she let him control her and manipulate her, feeling her skin heat up where he touched her and relishing the paradox of it, how her blood vessels would dilate at his icy-cold touch.

He spun her, and for a moment she lost herself in the act, drifting further from him than she had to, and she stumbled a few steps back. She was breathing harder than the slow dance called for, lips parted and eyes half-lidded as she stepped towards him again.

But the music died down.

"Students, I'm very sorry to inform you that there has been a problem with the counting of the votes. We cannot choose a Prom King or Queen," said the class president onstage, her stress and frustration clear in her eyes.

"What did you do?" asked Loki as he laughed at the groans and whines of the student body. He looked at Darcy, who smiled awkwardly back.

"I, um – I replaced the pens with identical ones I'd outfitted with disappearing ink. I got the idea from one of the cases my ex talked about constantly. Figured it was damn clever of me."

"Yes, it was rather clever," said Loki, pleased by the blush that erupted in Darcy's cheeks. "Come with me."

She followed him out of the gym, neglecting to mention how no one could prove it was her, or how she'd gone down in high-school lore as That Girl Who Ruined Prom. Because no one knew her name.

~o~

"I'm sorry, Miss Lewis, but there aren't really a lot of options for you if you want an internship program,"said a boring voice, as Loki and Darcy emerged into an administrative office in her university. It was dusty and looked like it hadn't been redecorated in ten years. It was almost a time capsule. The too-yellow sunlight that floated lazily in only gave the outdated details a sort of nostalgic patina.

"I needed the extra credit, 'cause I'm really bad at math," said older Darcy as she looked behind her at a slightly younger version of herself.

"Well – what about this one?" asked younger Darcy, pointing to one of the available spots with an insistent glare. They'd been staring and struggling over that piece of paper for about an hour by then, the fat old Placement Administrator growing ever more impatient.

His face suddenly filled with relief when he saw someone peeking in through the door. "Foster!"

"Hey Alan," said Jane Foster awkwardly, pulling a face, "Sorry, I didn't know you were in a meeting. I'll just, um, wait outside."

"No, it's fine! In fact I could use a little help. Y'see, I've been trying to place Miss Lewis here for an internship, but obviously all the available options sound unappealing. You know a few of the center supervisors, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah – yeah," said Jane, tucking her hair behind her ear and approaching Alan's desk. She looked at the paper and then at Darcy, with a look of recognition dawning on her face slowly. "Lewis as in Darcy Lewis?"

"Um, yeah?" replied Darcy timidly.

"If you're interested in anything involving astronomy research, I'd take you in as an intern," she said with a warm smile, causing Alan to look at her in shock.

"Actually, yeah, I am interested," replied Darcy. "Mr. Veidt had told me I wasn't eligible for it"

"Well, she's in Humanities! Her major is Political Science, Foster," explained Alan.

"Oh it's fine," said Jane, smiling and scrunching up her nose to indicate it didn't matter, "It's not like I need an expert, just a lab assistant. Someone to transfer data and organize files."

"Well – I mean I've never seen that done but, ah, I guess it'll work," replied Alan, shifting some papers on his desk to keep his hands busy. "I guess that's about done then. I'll handle the paperwork with Foster, Miss Lewis. Have a nice day."

Young Darcy got up to leave silently, stopping at the door to see Jane sitting down with Alan to talk about what she had actually come for. She wanted to say thanks, but they looked busy. Smiling at her luck, she walked away, with older Darcy and Loki following.

"I sense there was a reason Jane took you in as an intern," remarked Loki indifferently.

"Yeah, I guess. She has a thing for strays, so to speak. I guess she knew about my high-school history and wanted to help out," replied Darcy thoughtfully, having considered it before.

"Like a pet?" His tone wasn't exactly abrasive, but there was something under it that made Darcy prickle.

"Like family," she replied, glaring at him. But then it hit her that maybe Loki was just envious, and her gaze softened. "She'd do the same with you, you know. If you let her. You could . . . be with us."

"'If I let her', of course. Because I am _so_ open to change my behavior just for the affection of a few mortals," he said indignantly.

"Jeez, man," she exclaimed frustratedly, "do you really prefer being disliked and rejected? What sort of messed up satisfaction do you get from that? I'm telling you that we would take you in if you stopped being such a dick for a bit, because, you know, it's clear as hell that you have rejection issues – and you throw it back because you think you're too good for it?"

"Yes," said Loki, looking away. It was too much to explain, and he doubted that she would understand. "I think we're done here."

She didn't say anything, because she felt they weren't done. For the first time she felt there was something more to him, but she had no idea how to find it. She'd seen him shine for brief seconds, seen his yearning for affection. The way he'd let his guard down, the way a few flickering glimmers of compassion showed through the mask he put up. As much as she had thought she hated him, she suddenly had hope for him, she actually wanted to get through to him. But she didn't say anything.

Loki waved a hand to dissolve the memory, and everything faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a stillness in the air, as if it had crystallized while he – while she – while _they_ slept. The grayish-blue light that spilled in from the window looked washed out, tired and frayed. Even the sounds of the sheets being thrown aside were faraway and muffled, the sensation of cold against warm was numbed. It was immensely relaxing.

_Oh my God, dude, just get up. I can feel my stomach growling,_ said Darcy's voice in their head.

"I'm sure your body can wait for food," replied Loki, getting up in front of the mirror and staring pointedly at Darcy's slightly pudgy hips and curved thighs.

_Stop staring at my body, you pervert,_ she said, knowing it was better to ignore his snark. She wasn't sure if he could feel her embarrassment, or her immediate desire to jump onto a treadmill and kill her self-image issues.

"Believe me, Miss Lewis, if I felt any attraction for you, I would be much more courteous about it," he answered, though he looked away and could feel Darcy's cheeks blushing. He smirked, turning away from the mirror and getting dressed.

Darcy watched in silence, trying not to lose her patience. Trying not to remember the events of the past night. Or rather, the complicated thoughts and feelings that had erupted in her. She'd seen his hesitation, the tiny flickers of emotion. It had filled her with the sense of potential, stranger and bigger than anything she had ever known. Scary and brilliant and confusing as hell.

Pancakes with sliced bananas and fudge syrup for breakfast, which Darcy happily noticed that Loki enjoyed more than he would have liked to admit. Erik had made them, and looked at Darcy's big satisfied smile with pride. Wait –

Big satisfied smile? Either Loki's acting skills had improved tenfold in that one night, or something else was going on. And sure enough, as the wonderful taste faded from her tongue, the smile became less and less genuine. It went unnoticed by all but Darcy herself.

"These pancakes are marvelous, Erik!" exclaimed Thor, patting Erik's shoulder. Erik was moved several inches by the contact, the chair under him screeching on the tiled floor.

"Marvelous indeed," nodded Darcy, words muffled by the mouthful of delicious banana-chocolate goodness. Okay, so maybe Loki's acting _had_ improved.

That he had made her talk with her mouth full did not amuse her. Not inaccurate, no. But still unamusing. She wondered if it was embarrassment or simply indignation at the notion that Loki thought that way of her. But then again, it wasn't as if she could hide anything from him anymore. Not when he had her entire brain to poke through and read like a book. It was . . . uncomfortable, to say the least, but in the strangest way, it was liberating.

"Hey, Darcy, I'm headed to the lab early. You coming with, or will you catch up later?" asked Jane as she downed her mug of coffee and grabbed her keys. Thor looked at her with his big puppy dog eyes, letting just a bit of sadness trickle through. He wasn't allowed in the lab, not after he'd accidentally wiped three entire hard drives when they weren't looking.

"Oh, yeah, sure!" Darcy replied, with just the right amount of enthusiasm, stuffing the last of the pancake into her mouth and leaving the plate in the sink.

_Good one. I know you wanted to lick the plate, but that would have been out of character,_ said Darcy in their head.

_Really? I figured it would have been fine. I was just in a hurry,_ snarked Loki right back. _Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin your body any further while I'm here. That would just be rude._

She had no answer. But she'd come up with something. It suddenly struck her how quickly she'd gotten over the sheer terror of having her body hijacked, and gone straight into antagonizing her body-napper as if they were just frienemies. Truth be told, she'd never seen herself as the kind of person to take anything seriously, but it tickled her how well she was handling her situation.

Oh! Car door. Of course.

"Ow! Motherf – ughh!" exclaimed Loki through Darcy, having just shut the car door on her fingers accidentally. Well, not so accidentally. Darcy had nudged the impulse to move the hand away out of her subconscious, and though it hurt like nobody's business, it was definitely worth it.

"Oh gosh, are you okay?" asked Jane, hurrying over to Darcy and taking her hand, looking it over worriedly. The smile that crossed Darcy's face was Loki's, but it was reflected within by Darcy's own feelings. She was suddenly sure that it wouldn't be too hard to get Loki to go native, not with Jane on his side. Even if Jane had no idea it was Loki, even if Loki knew this – it would work. She was sure of it, she thought as they got in the car. The ride was quiet, and she couldn't help but consider these things. That they could help him. That he could be helped at all. That maybe, underneath his anger and jealousy there was something _worth_ saving.

She knew, though, that it was a foolish idea. Even Jane had been with her share of messed up guys who just refused to change, to grow up and get over their issues. Darcy knew it was, you know, a _thing_. Girl meets bad boy, girl falls for bad boy despite his serious problems, girl tries desperately to change the guy into a better person, girl fails miserably. Rinse and repeat. And she knew that it was foolish to even consider the possibility.

Except. . . . except she wasn't in love with him. She was pretty sure that a large part of her still hated his guts, actually. She didn't want to change him just to be with him, it had nothing to do with romance or physical attraction. She'd seen a glimmer of humanity in him, and wanted to help.

Right? That was totally it, she told herself. The dance had meant nothing. It was just a distraction. She hadn't fallen for him, and she wouldn't. She couldn't, not if she didn't want to be blinded. Not if she wanted to help him.

~o~

They arrived quietly at the lab, the dusty New Mexico air as still and hot as a sunbeam. Loki quickly busied Darcy with organizing data sheets, as Jane fell into her own pattern of work. The silence, the calm, was so palpable that Loki found it hard to break it. Hesitation froze Darcy's throat as he crafted his words, urging them on. She watched from within curiously.

Like dust floating in a sliver of light, they worked their way around the lab, Loki searching for the right moment to speak. It was only when their tasks fell into place next to each other, as they both approached the same table, that the silence burst.

"You've been avoiding Thor," said Jane calmly, not even looking up from her data sheet.

"I – I already, um, talked to him about it," replied Darcy's voice, fumbling with the wires she was arranging. "It's just a thing, you know? I don't mean to do it, but when I see him I just . . ."

"No, I understand," said Jane, finally looking up at her. "But you know you can talk about it with me, right? You can tell me anything. You should know that I wouldn't want anything to get between us."

Loki paused. It was not a measured pause. Whether it was disdainful pride or surprise at a sudden swell of comfort, Darcy couldn't tell.

"But he – you're with him. I mean, you're together, and that's – that's great, actually. And I wouldn't get in the way of that," Loki made her say, hesitation and discomfort perfectly staged.

"Just tell me, talk to me. Let it out," said Jane, pushing aside the data sheets and propping herself up on the table in front of Darcy. There was a sincerity in her eyes that Loki had rarely ever seen in anyone, that he wanted to exploit. To own.

"I don't know. I just think he's dangerous. Or, at least, you know – dangerous to have around. And I know he's a thunder god," added Loki through Darcy, rolling her eyes, "it would be pretty hard for anyone to beat him but . . . his brother got close. Who knows if there's anything out there stronger? I – I really don't want us to get caught in that kind of crossfire."

"Oh, Darcy," said Jane sadly, putting her arms around her. It was a different hug from Thor's. Warmer, more sympathetic than protective. "You know we won't let Loki get to you, ever again. Even if Thor was . . . defeated, we'd still protect you."

"But who will protect you? It's not me I'm worried about," said Loki through Darcy, feeling a genuine sincerity in Darcy's voice that wasn't his own doing. Darcy had meant to say the same thing that he did – and suddenly he felt it: rushing out of her chest, an intense but painless love. So completely unlike the dull ache of love that he was used to, he wondered how he could ever have thought the two things the same. He held Jane tighter, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. Was this what they felt all the time? Was this what had been denied of him for all his immortal life?

In Darcy's own mind, a goal was coalescing, far ahead. Her path was becoming clear. In Jane's embrace she no longer felt that small resentment that they couldn't protect her as they promised. She realized that it wasn't meant to be: they didn't save her from Loki because it was up to her to save them. She'd help him, even if it meant letting him do as he wanted, to show him that he didn't have to be the way he was.

Both of them were surprised to find tears on Darcy's cheeks, to find themselves sobbing in earnest into Jane's shoulder as Jane softly ran her hand through Darcy's hair. It was soothing, and the tears abated soon enough.

"I have no answer, Darcy," said Jane sadly as the hug ended,"but you know I can't just tell Thor to leave. I can't."

"I know, and I don't want him to. I just . . . don't want anything to happen to us."

Jane nodded, eyes lowered. With a sigh, she returned to her work, and Darcy did the same.

_You didn't really have to go through all that effort to get a hug from Jane, you know. She's pretty generous with the hugging thing,_ said Darcy in her mind.

Loki didn't reply, but she could feel his annoyance.

~o~

Cloaked in thick steam and with eyes closed, they showered. It was the same shower they'd had every day since Loki had taken over: with the hottest water available and Darcy's modesty guarded by the both of them. The water was too hot for human skin, of course. Perhaps that should have been Darcy's first clue when she began to feel that strangeness within her, before discovering what – rather, who – it was. In trying to quell that aching, unnatural cold she felt inside, she had taken to showering with the dial turned all the way to the left, when the water got so hot that the bathroom became a white blur, and her skin sang.

It was Loki, however, that guided her hands over her body, over every swell and curve. It was at once familiar yet strange, sensual and unnatural. At first it had been mostly uncomfortable, a daily event that she would rather have avoided. Now she had to convince herself that the shivers she felt were not her own body turning against her. She told herself it wasn't pleasure, but something else. _Anything _else.

Loki turned the dial to the 'off' position, ending the stream, feeling a hundred rivulets of hot water race their way down her body. Eyes still closed, Darcy reached for the towel, only opening them once she was wrapped in it. She walked out of the bathroom into her room, steam billowing out behind her in a ghostly trail.

Only, this time Loki didn't dress her in night clothes. He stood her in front of her full-length mirror, and stared. She was about to snark at him about being a pervert, when she saw what he was doing. Like the steam that curled and faded into air behind her, she herself was subtly curling and fading. Her eyes became just a hint narrower, half-lidded and sinister with a sudden flash of green. Nose focusing into a straighter line. Lips thinner and darker. Like a crow unfurling its wings, her wavy hair shifted into straighter, jagged black locks. She grew taller, her legs and waist becoming more slender as she stretched out, and an emerald silk dress wrapped around her, clasping into golden pauldrons and silver hooks.

Loki's signature horned headdress formed around her head, and the transformation was complete: she was no longer just Darcy. She was an amalgam of the both of them, an elegantly fearsome goddess.

"This is what you could be," said Loki in his – no, in _her_ new voice, "this is what you could have. The power of a god. All those things you hate about yourself could be gone. You could be as abundant as you could never even imagine."

_What, like – if I sold my soul to you?_ Her mental voice was sarcastic, as much as she was trying to show him kindness.

"I am not offering you a deal, Darcy. I am merely telling you, this could be yours. This is what I can offer."

_In exchange for what? _She was curious now. Where was Loki going with this?

"What would you give up?" asked Loki, raising an eyebrow.

_Nothing. I don't really want power,_ she replied truthfully. _You could try tempting me with, like, an ipod, maybe._

Loki smirked, unperturbed by Darcy's mocking. She'd planted the seed in Darcy's mind. It was done.

With a wave of her gloved hand, the room went pitch black. Slowly the light returned, like an electric-blue dawn. But as the light returned to the walls, it did not return to the mirror. As Darcy looked through it, she saw a billowing, swarthy expanse. It was like living obsidian, dark and gleaming at the same time.

They stepped through the mirror, into a humid, cold world. Loki smiled to herself, approaching the Castle-Cave of the Dark Elves, the ground crunching under her brass boots, bones and burnt coal floating up in clouds of dust.

Not exactly fearful, but certainly creeped the hell out, Darcy asked, _What is this place? Why are we here?_

"Svartalfaheimr. Not that you would know where that is. Just visiting old friends," replied Loki with a smile. They walked inside, ducking under a stone arch that was clearly designed for creatures much shorter than her.

The large hall inside looked like it was cut into a gigantic chunk of onyx, holding a throne and several tables in the center, though it was hard to see anything. In the dimness, Darcy saw a shadowy figure shift position, turning towards them, a jagged crown set on its head.

"Loki . . . welcome."


	5. Chapter 5

Molten-gold eyes stared into Loki's, dripping shimmering trails down the dark elf's soot-encrusted face as he stood up from his throne. Above them, a false sky was dimly lit by stars of fire and hot steel: the ever burning forges of Svartalfaheimr.

_What a cheerful place you've brought me to, dude,_ said Darcy in her and Loki's head. _We should stop by the gift store on the way out._

_Idiot. The dark elves make the finest jewelry, armor and weapons in all the realms, _spat Loki back, even as the dark elf greeted her with a kiss on her hand. "Dvalin, I am honored to speak with you."

"And I am pleased to speak with such a beautiful form," replied Dvalin in a voice that sizzled like hot iron in water, as Loki bowed. "I suppose this means you are up to no good, Loki. It better not mean trouble for me."

"I assure you, you can trust that I shan't bring any harm to you or your people," smiled Loki, wincing at Darcy's mental snort. _Really? Shan't? You're breaking out that word?_

"I know better than to trust you on anything," snarled Dvalin, eyes crackling suddenly with cinders. The specks of light made his jagged crown shimmer, and Darcy realized that it wasn't made of coal or rock like the rest of the place. It was mined glass, bursting out from black rock in sharp spikes. The fire in Dvalin's eyes died back to the dull glow of liquid metal as he calmed down, "I must admit, though, that I am curious as to why you have come to me."

_What kind of glass is that, in Dualeen's crown? _Darcy asked curiously, lost in its dark sheen. Loki found herself smiling at Darcy's strained pronunciation of Dvalin's name.

_The green spires at the edges are moldavite, and the taller spikes are obsidian,_ replied Loki, and Darcy was surprised to find no disdain in Loki's tone.

"I suppose you want weapons?" asked Dvalin.

"And the hands to hold them," nodded Loki with a smile, "merely to scare some mortals. No death need be involved."

_What are you doing? _asked Darcy, inner voice prickling with the onset of an outrage. Loki ignored her as Dvalin lead them up onto a large platform from which enormous chains reached upward to the forges. With a jangle and a screech, the chains began to pull the platform towards the faraway ceiling.

"Scare mortals, mm?" Dvalin repeated Loki's words in his own seared voice, "Look at these forges. Look at these walls and this ceiling, Odinson."

Loki looked with disinterest, green eyes glossing over the vast ceiling, held up by a thousand stone columns. "Yes?"

"We make everything here, with our own hands. We make our clothes, we make our walls, we make our tools. The moment a Svartalfar becomes an adult is the moment he or she makes something useful." He led them down the forges, where blackened hands pounded hammers into hot iron, and sooty tongs poured liquid sunlight into crucibles to be cooled into dull gray swords and axes.

Loki nodded, wincing as she felt Darcy trying to burst through, her question burning in their mind. "I fail to see what you are trying to tell me, Dvalin."

"Our wisdom is that of the craftsmen, Loki. And we have a saying, down here," Dvalin said as he picked up a still-red dagger from an anvil, coal fingers not even sizzling against the heat. "'You make your enemies.' As much as one's hands can make tools, they can make the weapons used to destroy us."

Loki smiled, and Darcy paused. Dvalin's words were wasted, of course. The way Loki lied constantly, reveled in doing the exact opposite of what he was told, only to resent being called out – it was clear to Darcy that Loki knew he was making his own enemies. The way a child might choose a toy to be the evil one, and one to fight it, so did Loki set himself up for battles. Of wits and of cunning, of ability as much as of strength.

"Merely words of caution from one who has made many fortresses and lived only in one, forged many swords but only swung one once," said Dvalin wearily. "But what you do with your time is not for me to dictate. There is a price for my swords, and a price for my men. What do you offer?"

"You know full well the riches of Asgard," replied Loki breezily. "I would offer you your pick of them."

"Riches of Asgard," scoffed Dvalin, "half of them made here! I have no need of gold or diamond. My throne is heavy with both. My crown, do you see it? It is made of glass. The rarest things here are those that last the least, like the flame of a kiss and the spark of a smile. I seek the warmth that a glowing hot blade cannot offer."

"Well, I would gladly appoint you a companion, an Asgardian maiden who would warm your bed for as long as you remain useful t – "

"I want this girl," said Dvalin, reaching out to touch Loki's cheek. "The one whose body you have taken. A mortal, no? From Midgard. She is . . . unique."

Darcy felt a mad chill run up her spine, panic immediately bubbling up into her head. Suddenly the forges seemed too hot, the elves too menacing and twisted, with their gold-dripping eyes. The dust and the blackness became oppressive, and she could only imagine herself running through the mine tunnels, endlessly lost in caves and fleeing from dark things with fiery eyes.

_Loki . . . please don't let him take me,_ gasped Darcy in their mind, even though she knew it was useless to ask anything of him. Her own sudden panic made Loki lose her own breath, and she grit her teeth.

"No!" spat Loki, her brow furrowing and her lips curling into a frown. "That is far too high a price for a band of ashen blacksmiths, Dvalin. It would do you well to know your place."

"Too high a price? You've said yourself that mortals are like ants on an anthill," seethed Dvalin, eyes spitting with fire and droplets of metal. "Surely you can part with this one!"

"She is not mine to give, and less for you to ask. I am done here," she snarled, turning with a flourish of her emerald cape. Crossing forges and smelters, she thundered onto the platform, sending it rattling down before Dvalin could reach them. "And perhaps you should be asking for an architect to fix your cracked walls and rusty hinges, Dvalin Lofarson."

In a second she was through the arch and gone from Svartalfaheimr, a cruel smile playing on her face, even as the soot that Dvalin had left on her cheek burned with the memory of the fear and panic Darcy had made her feel.

~o~

There was no steam this time, the water only as hot as human skin would allow. Loki had retreated, but Darcy was too shaky to do anything but sit at the bottom of the shower, scrubbing away at the black stain on her cheek. Trying not to cry. It wasn't as if Loki wouldn't take control as soon as she tried something. So she didn't.

He had saved her though. Without even thinking about it, he said no to that dark elf. She told herself it was only jealousy, possessiveness, or maybe even some ulterior motive that kept Loki from giving her away. That Loki's shouts were an act, and he did not care for her.

Her mind welcomed these thoughts, cultured them: it was easy to distrust Loki. But there was already a desire burrowing under that distrust, weakening its foundations. It became the dull ache of wanting something impossible.

"I know what you're doing, you know," she said, relishing the sensation of finally using her own voice. "I'm a Political Science major. I study these sort of things."

Silence. For a split second she could almost imagine that it had all been a bad dream, that the Loki in her head wasn't real, but then she saw the black on her fingertips.

"You want to turn this family against Thor, make them cast him out the same way he was kicked out of Asgard," she said as water dripped down her face, over her lips and off of her chin, "so that the only person he can turn to is you. I can understand that."

_How could you possibly?_ Loki asked suddenly, a cold voice echoing in her mind.

"Because I'm selfish, too. I know you thought those memories you saw of me proved that I'm intelligent, but all they remind me of is how self-centered I was, and still am."

_Please, _scoffed Loki. _Do not pretend to know anything about me._

"I've been sharing a body with you for a while now, Loki. I feel what you feel," she said. His name felt odd on her lips. "Wanna know something weird?"

He hesitated, surprised at his first instinct: to say yes. He told himself it was merely curiosity, that the fact that she had said his name out loud, with such sincerity, had no effect on him. It wasn't as if she could tell him anything he didn't know already.

_Tell me,_ he replied.

"I don't hate you for it. I've seen the hungry depths of your selfishness, and I don't think any less of you. I know what it's like, to be constantly dissatisfied with everything, with everyone. It's the reason I got into the department that I'm in. I do want to change things, because I do think I know better than most."

He was silent. The idea that she somehow understood him the way few ever had was hard to accept. Yet already he could feel a smirk coming, a wry comment about how futile it was for her to want to change anything. For the first time, his instinct to belittle her disgusted him.

"I know you think I'm weak. You were brought up by the gods of the vikings, of course you would believe that the best way to change things is by force, whether it be your own or that of others."

_I think you're weak because you haven't proven otherwise, Miss Lewis. All you've done is whine,_ he replied, as much as he wanted to stop himself.

She frowned, eyes turning hard. Exhaustion was replaced by irritation, and she sat up, reaching for the shower knob. "Do you really want proof?"

She turned the knob, hot water scalding her skin, turning it red almost instantly. She grit her teeth, bracing herself against the pain with the knowledge that he could feel it, too. She could feel him squirm, determined not to give in. He could fix it easily, of course. A little extension of his Asgardian self, and her skin would once again be invulnerable to the heat.

_Stop this._

"You can stop it, too," she gasped, eyes shut tight.

With a sigh of relief and resignation, Loki exerted his will across her body, her skin returning to normal as the pain faded. She rubbed her arms, shivering at the change. Her eyes caught her fingers. The soot was gone, and when she went to the bathroom mirror, she saw that there was no soot on her face, either.

"You saved me, you know."

_I put you in that situation in the first place, _he replied bitterly.

"And you got me out of it quickly enough, without compromising your plans. I'd say that's pretty impressive," she said, nodding to herself as she wrapped a towel around her chest. "You could've easily let Mister Dualeen take me. Why didn't you?"

_I enjoy owning you. Nothing else._

"The things that you own end up owning you, remember that," she answered, flopping down into bed.

_Learn your place, Miss Lewis. I am a god,_ he responded firmly.

"And I'm a woman," she said, shrugging. "Have you ever really had a home?"

_Asgard is my home, idiot._

"No, I mean. . . a home is a place you own, a place that you can do with as you please, and be yourself completely."

His answer was his silence.

She smiled, and he had no idea why.


End file.
